My name is Michael, I'm 30 years old, I work in the finance sector and I live in New York. Shortly after I graduated from business school in the spring of 2004, I married my long-time girlfriend, Kristjana. Marriage wasn't an easy step for me to take. My hesitance had nothing to do with my wife -- we had been very close for several years and, although she drives me crazy at times, I love her. The truth is, and I realize this is not very original, but I had trouble with marriage because I like the possibility of sexual variety that comes along with being single. And although it had been years since I had slept with anyone but my wife, I didn't want to let go of the possibility that it could happen. There were still things I wanted to experience that my wife either couldn't, or was unwilling, to provide. Does that make me a dog? Maybe. But it's the truth. Anyway, one day I realized that I would have to get over my boyish fantasies at some point, and I got married.
A few weeks back, a close friend of mine from business school named Elliot came to town for an overnight visit. Elliot had moved away from New York shortly after our graduation and I was happy to see him because we always had a good time together. I became particularly excited about his visit, though, when I remembered that he would be bringing his beautiful fiancée, Mischa, along with him.
Mischa is 26 years old, petite, uniquely beautiful and warm hearted. When I first met Mischa, I thought I understood her immediately. As time passed, and Mischa and I developed a closer friendship, I found that she was full of small, but very interesting surprises. For instance, Mischa has a small, sweet voice and innocence about her that I noticed immediately. But over time I came to recognize that her innocence has a subtle sexual edge. At times, it has even been obvious that she is playing on her innocence -- for example, often times after I have made a playful sexual reference, she pretends not to understand while holding my gaze with a subtle flirtatious twinkle in her eye.
On a couple of drunken occasions, I have attempted to bring our flirtations to a slightly more serious level. I had never tried to kiss her or anything, after all she is the fiancée of a very close friend, but I have tested the boundaries a little. Unfortunately, Mischa has invariably become shy when I have done this, as if she is covering up some deep part of herself that makes her uncomfortable when she looks at it too directly.
On several occasions, Elliot and Mischa have joined my wife and me for long nights of drinking, talking and laughing and the two of them have almost always spent the night in our guestroom. Doing so allows them to avoid driving home when they are tired and tipsy and it also allows the four of us to spend additional time together in the morning. This tradition was something I had come to enjoy greatly, so I was disappointed to learn that they had reserved a hotel room for the duration of their visit.
On the night of Elliot's and Mischa's visit, a large group of our mutual friends got together at a local bar. My wife, Kristjana, was not able to join us because she had made plans weeks earlier to attend a concert with other friends. Everyone was getting along better than they had at any point in the past -- seeing old friends can often be that way. After some time apart, it's as if a new "honeymoon" period begins and you get a chance to see people you've known for years in a brand new light. Their comforting familiarity is somehow magically coupled with the excitement of exploring them for the first time -- the best of both worlds.
I was as excitable and talkative as anyone there, I suppose. I floated from conversation to conversation and grew happier as the bar tab grew.
At some point later in the evening, just as one conversation was ending but before another could begin, Mischa approached quickly and sat down in front of me, turning her back to the rest of the room and effectively blocking me into a corner where I would be able to talk only to her. Of course, I didn't protest and I suddenly felt a pang of regret as I realized that she was one of the few people I had not spoken with all night.
She wasted no time beginning the conversation. We filled each other in on the mundane aspects of our lives: our jobs, careers, where we were living, and our short-term plans. As our simple conversation wandered on, I began to feel warm and sort of peaceful and I realized how deeply I had missed her. It was as if we were sitting completely alone, in our own little dream, in the midst of a loud and churning sea of familiar faces.
Several minutes later, our intimacy was interrupted when a mutual friend arrived and awkwardly pushed himself between us to say hello. Mischa welcomed him warmly and reached up to put her arm around his shoulder, but I sensed that she was as frustrated by his interruption as I was.
After about another hour of drinking and reminiscing, the bartender made his last call and people began to collect themselves to leave. At that point, Mischa approached me again and asked whether my wife, Kristjana, would be arriving at home soon and, if so, whether Mischa could come by to say hello. I took this opportunity to invite her and Elliot to stay in our guestroom, rather than at their hotel. That way, I explained, we could have a few more drinks while we waited for my wife to return home and we could spend some time together in the morning.
After some deliberation, Mischa and Elliot decided to accept my invitation. Because my wife had dropped me off on the way to meet her friends, it made sense for me to ride home with Mischa and Elliot. So, a few minutes later, the three of us left the bar and walked to Elliot's car.
When we arrived at the car, Mischa insisted that I ride in the front seat with Elliot. She said that she had shorter legs and would be more comfortable in the back seat. I refused and assured her that I would be just fine. She was persistent, however, and soon was playfully wrestling me away from the door to the car's back seat. Being a gentleman, I allowed her to win the wrestling match. Not to be outdone, though, once she was in the backseat, I jumped in with her, leaving Elliot in the front seat alone.
Mischa laughed gleefully as I jumped into the backseat, pushing her into the seat behind Elliot, and Elliot didn't seem to mind, so I stayed where I was.
As Elliot began the short drive to my home, Mischa playfully threatened to tell my wife if I tried any "backseat funny business."
"What do you mean?" I asked, "Something like this?" And as I asked the question, I leaned toward Mischa in a silly and exaggerated fashion, pretending to take her into my arms.
"Oh, no!" Mischa screamed with feigned horror, leaning away from me and against the far door, "I'm being assaulted by a sexual madman!"
What happened next was so fleeting that I was not sure what to make of it at the time. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Mischa, nuzzling her lightheartedly. When I did this, I fully expected Mischa to push me away, but she didn't. Instead, she grasped the back of my left arm gently with her right hand and, giggling and squealing like a little girl, moved her head away from her shoulder slightly to allow me access to her neck.
I was so taken back by her openness to my advance that I moved away and looked at her quizzically. Her eyes were smiling and she had clearly had more to drink than I originally realized. I took a quick glance up at the rear view mirror and it appeared Elliot was preoccupied with the heavy bar traffic.
"Elliot," I said. "I think your fiancee is finally giving in to my advances."
"Congratulations," Elliot responded casually and with a brief smile into the mirror, "I'm proud of you."
I turned to Mischa and said, "I think Elliot just gave me backseat license to ravage you -- what do you think?"
Wearing the same intoxicated smile, Mischa responded in a tone that was clearly intended to provoke me, "but I'll still tell your wife."
"That's a chance I'm willing to take," I said as I grasped the back of her head and playfully nuzzled into her neck again.
Just as she had before, Mischa gently held my left arm with her right hand and, though she was giggling and squealing as if she protested, she dropped her shoulder to allow me access to her neck as I growled as rasped like a crazed animal. This time, though, I didn't pull away. Instead, I moved up and down her neck with my nose and lips, not kissing her really, but making increasingly quieter animal sounds until, at some point, as I gradually became swept up in the moment and began to focus on Mischa's sweet scent, I stopped making noises altogether and found myself simply brushing my mouth and nose against her neck, smelling and feeling her neck between my slightly parted lips as she lay very quietly against the door behind the driver's seat. When I noticed that I was no longer making noises, I realized that Mischa must be realizing that I was interested in more than simple flirtations, and I began to pull away once again. But then Mischa did something interesting -- she brought her left hand to the back of my head and began stroking my hair very slightly as we lay close to one another.
